


Fear of the Dark

by HiMiTSu



Series: Home of Shadows [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Character Death, Child Abuse, Credence Barebone/Percival Graves - Freeform, Flashbacks, Gen, Homophobia, Mob AU, Mob Boss Percival Graves, Murder, Violence, graphic depiction of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9574265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: Modesty hugged her legs to her chest as if the smaller she was the less the looming memory would hurt her. Of course, it was stupid. She started speaking. About that night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is very dark! So please, read the tags and be warned.
> 
> I am very happy with how this turned out. Just proves once again how I love writing dark stories. Though I wanted Modesty to be happy so all the violence and the darkness are in the past. (Another fav of mine - flashbacks).
> 
> There is something I did - a particular plot twist about Modesty that actually makes a very good sense to me in this universe. I hope you will understand me. I do not want to spoil it so I'm putting an explanation, if anyone needs one, in the end notes.

Modesty squinted against the sun and watched a figure limp slowly down the gravel path. The limp was new but she could still recognize the man – his tattered leather jacket and his pathetic face. He looked even less imposing without the suit, not that he ever actually managed to look distinguished anyway. She gave a small wave so he’d notice her perched on the banister and waited for him to approach.

He was such a loser, honestly. Still, under projected derision nestled some fondness. After all, Jimmy was a nice guy. He took care of her when the whole world was a terrifying place, brought her out of the darkness. For that, she was grateful, though it didn’t stop her from mocking him at every turn.

“Hey!” He shielded his eyes from the bright summer sun and stopped by the porch.

Modesty gazed at him loftily from her high position. Bit into her apple to drag out the wait, watched amusedly as he fidgeted and stomped his feet in the dirt.

“Hey,” she replied finally when half of the apple was gone.

He leaned by the porch casually, crossing his arms. It would have looked cool if Jimmy wasn’t trying so hard. As it was, he bumped his shoulder on the wooden column and almost slipped in the mud – the only patch of mud on the whole farm probably. Righting himself, he asked. “How have you been doing?”

She shrugged and bit into the apple purposefully – answered with a full mouth just because she could. “Fine.” Modesty enjoyed all the small insolences now. Mary Lou never allowed for such behavior – she installed proper manners into her kids by harsh words and stinging hits. Stepping out of line cost too much and Modesty wasn’t willing to pay the price. Now though, away from the cold church and even colder eyes of her step-mother, Modesty allowed herself some frivolities.

“That’s a nice place,” Jimmy commented, looking around. There wasn’t much to see from the front of the house: only a big green lawn and a pretty picket fence at the edge of the property. All the best stuff was at the back. A small fruit garden with colorful flowerbeds for decoration and behind that – fields and fields of seemingly endless space. She was free to wander them, she was free to pick at the fruit garden whenever it struck her fancy – she was free to do anything as long as she did her homework on time and didn’t break the law. But Modesty was a smart girl; her new step parents didn’t have to worry about that.

“They have horses here,” she commented and threw her almost finished apple at him.

Jimmy didn’t duck in time – he had terrible reflexes when not behind the wheel – and it hit him square in the temple. She laughed and he too cracked a smile, running a hand through his hair to get rid of the apple bits. Jimmy was good: he never got offended at her comments or actions, even when at the beginning she tried hard to drive him away. He stayed by her side, silent and lost but solid, and helped her to the best of his abilities.

“That’s cool. Can you ride them?”

“Patrice is teaching me.”

Patrice was her new stepmother. She was blonde and kind of pretentions – picture of a socialite – but she was sweet and kind and very caring. Modesty didn’t know what Mr. Graves had done to persuade Patrice and her husband take in an orphaned girl like her, but she was grateful for it, even though she despised the man. Patrice and Mark had a son of their own, but he was studying abroad, so they couldn’t see him often. They had the space and the money to take care of child but also, Modesty suspected, Patrice was just lonely.

They had moved from their New York flat to a farm in the suburbs just a couple months prior. Modesty didn’t much care for where she lived, but she found the fresh air nice and she really did like the horses. The step parents did not restrict her freedom and only reprimanded her when she truly deserved it; the way she was brought up, it seemed to Modesty they let too many things slide but she wasn’t about to impart on them the wisdom of Mary Lou Barebone.

Patrice tried asking her about the past, about her life at the church, but Modesty wasn’t about to open up; not to her anyway. In her heart, there was still a thread of trepidation – what if, in the end, they wouldn’t accept her? After all, Mary Lou only smiled nervously when Tommy from around the block brought her flowers, but she hit Modesty until bloody slashes opened up on her palms when she saw Tara holding her hand.

“Modesty?”

She started at the sound of Jimmy’s voice so close and tore her eyes from her open palms. Jimmy was standing right before her, peering up at her face in concern. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to school her expression into something lighter.

“You alright?”

She waved the concern away. “What’s with the limp?” Modesty asked.

Instantly, Jimmy lowered his head bashfully and ran a hand over the back of his neck. She sensed an opportunity for embarrassment and pressed. ”So…what happened? Got into a fight?”

“No,” Jimmy retorted immediately. For a moment, he stared right at her, daring to contradict, but then he dropped his gaze again and mumbled. “I went roller skating.”

“What?”

“You know…” He made a strange gesture with his hands, probably hoping it would convey an image of wheels on his shoes – it didn’t, but she got it anyway. “Roller skating. I finally asked Jenny out and she wanted to do something fun so…”

“Let me guess.” She said when he trailed away uncertainly. “You don’t know how to do that but you wanted to impress her really badly.”

“That’s about it, yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “Not counting that, the date went well.”

Modesty turned away from his beaming face and, swinging her legs over the banister, jumped off onto the porch. “Feeling optimistic then?” She asked, walking down the steps.

Jimmy gave an exaggerated shrug and followed her down the path. She led them around the house to where the fields were, past the barn and to the small orchard.

“Yeah.”

Modesty stopped, laying her hands on the fence and watched the trees. Everything was so very green. She liked green. She liked the space. She liked the freedom.

“How are things at school?” Jimmy tapped his fingers on the wood. He was looking out at the grounds, probably hoping Modesty would be more forthcoming if he played it off casually.

“Fine.” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk – she did feel comfortable around Jimmy – but she didn’t know how to start. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Any friends?”

“A couple.” Acquaintances more like, since Modesty preferred to keep everyone at a distance. If they got close they would start asking questions: about her past, about her previous family. She didn’t want to lie, so avoidance it was. It wasn’t too bad, though. For now she enjoyed the peace.

“That’s good.” Jimmy replied cheerfully.

She could feel his gaze on the side of her face when he turned. He tapped his heel into the dirt nervously. After a long moment of silence Modesty glanced at him from the corner of her eye, wordlessly prompting him to speak what was on his mind. She thought she knew already and braced for his next words.

“Have you…Have you spoken to Credence?”

Modesty shook her head, silently. She knew what was coming and it still felt like a lead had settled in her gut. She leaned her head on her hands over the top rail. “He didn’t try to contact me.” That sounded smart, didn’t it? Very grown up.

“Do you want to? Talk to him?” Jimmy proceeded cautiously but resolutely. He was still staring at her, she could feel it; closed her eyes against the sympathy in his gaze. In her mind, behind the darkness of her eyelids a picture had formed: a face, deathly pale with sharp planes throwing shadows over sunken features, eyes, bottomless and dark, dead to any emotion, a splatter of blood as black freckles on his skin. It was a grotesque picture, affected strongly by her fear and still, so close to how his face had looked.

Modesty pressed her eyelids tightly together, trying to shake off the image.

“Modesty?”

“I don’t know.” She blurted out. It sounded wet and teary despite the fact that her eyes were dry.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She didn’t. She didn’t. She didn’t.

Modesty shook her head furiously. She sniffled and opened her eyes and a tear ran down her cheek. With trembling hands she pushed away from the fence and span on her heels, sliding down the wooden support to sit on the ground. She picked on the hole in her jeans, dragging on the edge to widen the gap.

“I like jeans,” she said suddenly.

Jimmy threw her a puzzled glance and perched on the ground by her side. She ignored him and continued. “Mother never let me wear jeans. She thought they were too modern.”

Jimmy nodded, probably remembering all those times he stood by the car waiting until his boss was done talking to the pair of beggars. She was wearing dresses, drab looking things, color faded from wash and patches covering up many tears. They were always clean but that was their only redeeming feature. Same was for Credence – a suit, old but patched up meticulously. He was always a little embarrassed by his appearance. Hunching in on himself and avoiding the eyes of strangers, he was an easy target for their mocking and bullying. She wondered, later, if that was what had made him finally snap. But deep down, she knew that not to be true. He didn’t snap. He knew what he was doing. It was all along, that darkness which lurked inside, controlled carefully until he just…let it out.

Modesty shivered even though it was warm outside.

“She…she was very strict, right?” Jimmy asked even though he already knew the answer.

Modesty replied nonetheless. “Yes.” She tugged a lose thread and let it go with the wind. “She was the worst with Credence.”

Jimmy made a soft inquiring sound but didn’t interrupt. She felt the words flowing out of her; she had no control of their current. “Chastity got off easy. A perfect older daughter with her nice shopkeeper fiancé. She rarely got scolded.” Modesty scoffed. “Her fiancé is married to another already.” She said it viciously, with acidic satisfaction and then remembered why Chastity’s fiancé wasn’t required to be faithful any more. The reminder left a hollow feeling in its wake.  “She was alright though…Helped me with homework sometimes.”

“And…uh…and Credence?”

“He isn’t bad.”

“Not bad? He killed your step-mom and sister.”

She could see Jimmy regretted the outburst immediately; if not the words then at least the way he said them. His intonations softened as he continued. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…shouted…it like that. But it is true.”

“He didn’t mean to.” She pressed her face into her knees and her small voice was nothing if not a whisper. Weak, it still carried the truth she wholeheartedly believed in. “It’s not his fault.”

Modesty hugged her legs to her chest as if the smaller she was the less the looming memory would hurt her. Of course, it was stupid. She had grown out of fairy-tales long ago. Jimmy’s hand on her back startled her but he still held onto her shoulder, offering support. “You want to know how it was?” She mumbled into her knees.

“Yes.” His reply was simple, no more asking if she was ready to talk about it. She wouldn’t be saying this if she didn’t mean to. Which didn’t make telling the tale easier.

 

* * *

 

 

_Modesty paused in the doorway, surprised to see Credence in her room. They each had a small private space on the second floor of the church, more cupboards than actual rooms, but both Modesty and Credence were adamant about keeping each other’s privacy. At least someone had to, at that house. So seeing him so blatantly invading her room was disconcerting._

_“Credence?” She asked, cautiously stepping inside._

_He turned and then she saw what was in his hands. With a gasp Modesty surged to grab it but he dodged and pressed the slip of paper to his chest. “You shouldn’t be keeping this.” He whispered urgently. His eyes, wide with fear, pleaded her to see reason._

_“They were hidden.” Modesty insisted and reached out again. He was too tall for her to grab his hands so she latched onto his shirt and shook him by it._

_“This is dangerous.” The pink paper was getting creased between his fingers and Melody felt angry tears spring to her eyes. This wasn’t fair. He had no right. She told him as much, her voice low but furious._

_“Modesty,” he pleaded but she pushed him until he stumbled and the paper fell through his fingers; she launched to grab it._

_He was right. Of course he was. But it didn’t mean he had to the right to take it. It was hers and hers alone, simple but precious. A little heart-shaped piece of paper, it was painted in bright pink and in the middle was a message: just a generic confession but turned precious by the signature underneath._

_“You need to get rid of it,” Credence insisted. He reached out but didn’t touch, only holding out his palm. There were lashes on his fingers, still fresh from the day before. They made a more compelling argument than any of his words could; still Modesty could not let go of her treasure._

_She gripped it in her fingers and screamed, “No!”_

_She saw his eyes grow wide and face turn pale. Her voice was loud, the shriek that carried all around the church; Modesty pressed a hand to her lips but nothing could take it back. Credence made another motion to grab the damning Valentine card but Modesty jerked back instinctively and bumped into a person standing in the corridor. Dread spread from the shoulder blades to her body. Credence was reaching out still but there was no point anymore._

_“What is that?” The harsh voice of Mary Lou Barebone rang over her head and a hand stole the card from her now slack grip._

_“It was mine,” Credence stepped in, putting himself between his mother and sister._

_Mother glanced at him sharply and then scanned the card. Her lips curled into a sneer, “I don’t remember you knowing a girl named Tara.” It was as much a dig at Modesty as at Credence as well._

_He floundered and gulped trying to come up with an excuse. He was so awkward, so bad at lying. He suffered most for it._

_“I didn’t,” he finally said. Words left him quickly as if he could try and outrun Mother’s thought process and convince her in a lie. “She gave it to me. And introduced herself.”_

_“Really?” Mother lifted a skeptical eyebrow; with her sharp features every expression seemed judgmental but it was outright scary when she knew you were guilty._

_Credence shifted on his feet and burrowed his head further in his shoulders. He seemed small, insignificant and so so helpless. Modesty wanted to step up but the fear held her back. Mother pressed her lips together until they were nothing but a pale thin line and demonstratively tore the Valentine in half. She did it slowly, to torture them both, and Credence flinched with every tear. He was scared too, but he stood in the way, even though he looked like a smallest push would send him sprawling at her feet._

_“You will not speak to this…girl…again.” Disgust turned her face ugly; her hard stare was for Modesty alone. Then she directed her cold fury to Credence. “Come along. And give me your belt.”_

_Credence’s breath stuttered painfully but he was ready to comply, putting his hands on the belt and struggling with the clasp. The metal clunked in his shaking fingers and Mother half turned to watch what was taking so long. Her gaze slipped behind him for a moment. “You will come next.” She said to Modesty._

_All sound ceased. She realized suddenly it was because Credence was standing very still, barely breathing. His hands fell slack at his sides. He was looking at Mary Lou, figure still pathetically hunched but his face…His face was forming a snarl – such an expression Modesty had never seen on him before. His eyes, black bottomless pits, stared Mother down._

_For the first time, it wasn’t Mother Modesty was scared of._

_“No.” Credence had said. His weak voice was picking up in volume and intensity. He repeated, with more strength. “No.”_

_“No?” Mary Lou echoed with scorn._

_Credence was struggling with the words, his lips forming ‘No’s and ‘Don’t’s but still unable to articulate clearly. It was like his mind was one big mess of denial. But that wasn’t right too. It wasn’t denial that hardened his gaze, it was defiance._

_“You will do as I say. Both of you.” Mother’s voice took a threatening shade as she turned to stare them down. A look like that was reserved for those who displeased her greatly, usually new kids at the church who had not learned to follow the rules yet, and didn’t promise anything good. With pieces of a cardboard heart under her feet she was a figure come from Modesty’s nightmares. Credence’s too, she knew. And yet…_

_“No. You will not hurt her.” Her brother’s voice sounded strange; he was calm, perfectly so. He wasn’t asking. He was commanding Mary Lou to back down. It wasn’t going to work._

_Modesty was about to step up and tug him back by his sleeve. She was scared, of both of them, of the dark atmosphere that had descended on the church. It felt like a storm brewing and she didn’t want to see it break._

_“Mother,” she tried to intervene but got interrupted._

_“I will do as I please.” Mary Lou had said, loud and clear. “When it comes to your discipline. Now, come. Both of you.”_

_Modesty couldn’t describe what had happened in the next moment. A shadow had covered her as Credence took a step back – he was retreating, thank God, she had thought. His hand was reaching blindly for the table; his fingers came across a pair of scissors she used for sewing. And then…_

_There was a scream and blood. She knew Credence had surged with the scissors held aloft but her mind would not connect the dots. Refused to paint the whole picture. It was only later when she sat huddled under the table, when the memory kept replaying in her head over and over again. Credence, calm in his anger, taking a step, then another, and coming to stand before Mother. The incomprehension on her face; up until the second he pushed the scissors into her chest. Her eyes opening wide and her mouth forming a scream. She thrashed, pushed him away and stumbled back. There was red all over her._

_Modesty stood frozen in shock. She pressed her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream when Credence followed Mother, calmly – calm, he was so calm – and pulled the scissors out. She gasped, a pained wet sound and grabbed onto the wound. Blood flowed through her fingers. She looked down at it, astonishment turning her features almost unrecognizable “What?” Faintly, the word fell from her lips. Her eyes focused on Credence. It was as if he was waiting for her to notice – he dug the scissors into her stomach._

_Mother cried out in pain and tears streamed down her cheeks. When he reached for his weapon she jerked back, unstable on her feet. Only then did she start shouting for help. Credence advanced but she stepped back until her back hit a railing of the second floor banister. And even then she jerked back violently – the wood creaked and broke under her weight._

_Modesty made a dash around Credence, to grab at her hand, to catch an edge of her skirt, but she wasn’t quick enough and could only watch Mother’s face, pained and terrified, before she landed on the floor with a terrible crunch. Her unseeing eyes staring upwards was the most horrible thing Modesty had seen in her life. They would haunt her dreams for years from that moment forward. At that minute though, she could only whimper and grab onto the banister as if it could give her any support._

_The horrible silence didn’t last long. Chastity, who had been working in the kitchen downstairs had emerged into the main room at the ruckus. Modesty followed her with her eyes and saw the exact moment her sister noticed the body on the floor. She froze, a kitchen knife still in one hand and a half-peeled potato in the other. And then she screamed. She screamed and screamed as if the fear had taken her mind away. She dropped what she was holding and scrambled over to the body. Up close she could see the torn wound and the scissors still buried in the stomach. Her pale face lifted to look up._

_“Monster!” She whispered. Her voice, icy cold carried through the empty space and echoed from the walls._

_Credence’s footsteps were soft at Modesty’s back. She pressed her forehead to the splintered wood of the banister she was gripping to and prayed. She was so terrified her whole body was shaking and her thoughts were a mess – she was never particularly religious, Mary Lou’s way of upbringing had an opposite effect in fact – and now she messed up the words of a prayer, a first one that came to mind, but she went on, repeating same lines when she couldn’t remember next ones, stumbling over words and sobbing them out quietly._

_Credence went past her and only his hand briefly brushed through her hair. There was blood on his fingers too and it clung to her braids but she ground her teeth and kept a terrified moan from escaping. She heard him shushing her gently but he passed by as if in a trance._

_Modesty watched him descend the stairs, heard Chastity’s shrill voice berate him harshly. Wanted to stop her stepsister, warn her, but the words lodged in her throat. Her vision was blurry with the tears and her fingers hurt from digging her nails into the rotten wood. She wanted to escape, squinted her eyes shut hoping it would turn out to be a nightmare; Modesty was not a stranger to those but usually they ended when Mary Lou rose her in the morning._

_But when her eyes flew open Mary Lou was still lying motionlessly on the floor below. And Credence, bloody and dispassionate, was picking up Chastity’s kitchen knife that she had dropped earlier._

_“No.” Modesty whispered. “No. No. No. Run!” She shouted then but Chastity wouldn’t listen._

_Her stepsister was heading for Credence instead, shouting in his face, either unaware or uncaring of the weapon in his hand. She didn’t see him as a threat. Never did. Pathetic weak Credence, they bossed him around and abused him under pretense of education.  They never knew of the monster that resided inside of him._

_“No!” Modesty shouted again but could only watch hopelessly as Credence ran the knife through Chastity._

_She sobbed. Closed her eyes and clung to the banister and sobbed. Would he come after her next? A thought was sudden and made her lift her head and search the floor below with her gaze. But it looked like all the fight had gone out of him. Credence must have stumbled back away from the body since he was leaning against one of the pews now, looking like he was about to keel over._

_Blood streaked his once white shirt. It was almost black in the dim light inside the church – a couple of weak lamps cast shadows over his face but she could see a similar dark splatter on his cheek. His hands were all bloody and he squeezed them into fists and slid to his knees. A whimper, teary and pitiful, was loud in the following silence. They sat like that, she at the balcony circling the top floor, looking down and terrified to move. He, her brother, in a little ball of the floor, sad little noises tearing the silence. A long time had passed, her own tears had stopped; exhaustion took over while they left dry tracks on her skin._

_Finally, Credence moved, untangled his limbs and shakily rose to his feet. Modesty followed his progress as he staggered up the staircase, shuffled past her without noticing, his gaze glassy and staring ahead. There was a purpose to his steps even though she could not imagine what it was._

_Modesty uncurled her hands from the banister, shifted on her knees so she could look out in the corridor behind her. Credence had reached his own room, there was clutter as he searched the desk drawers. Soon she heard him stagger back into the corridor so she turned and bolted down the stairs, hiding behind a desk._

_Credence hesitated at the top; she could see now that in his hands was a phone, the screen lit up his face and tinted his pale skin blue. It was a good phone too, an expensive model. She didn’t have to guess who gave it to him. That much was obvious. Credence’s fingers tapped on the screen and then he pressed the phone to his ear. As he did so he slid down the wall and hugged the other hand around his knees. He started rocking slowly as the person on the other end took their time to pick up. Modesty knew who he was calling. There was only one other person in Credence’s life, a new constant that bothered Modesty but made her brother happy. She once thought the man would have a bad influence on her brother. Was she right in the end? Was that the reason Credence snapped? Or had he simply reached his breaking point?_

_“Mr. Graves.” Credence’s plea was delivered in such a heart-breaking voice she felt new tears gather at the corners of her eyes. “Help me. Please.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Modesty lifted her eyes to stare at the sun at its zenith. It was a warm summer day but she shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You know what happened next.”

Jimmy was silent through her story; she thought it was out of respect but now that she was over the quiet continued. His pinched expression was turned towards the ground.

“What are you thinking about?” She prompted.

When he glanced at her, his eyes were serious and heavy with emotion. “That was horrible.”

Modesty shrugged; that was not the part she wanted him mulling over. Jimmy took the gesture for what it was, not a dismissal but a request to move on. He asked instead:

“Are you afraid of him?”

That was a difficult one. She chose her next words carefully. “Not now. No. He was…not himself that night.”

“Was he?” Jimmy inquired casually. “From what I’ve seen after…He doesn’t seem violent. But…There is something off about him.” He admitted the last part boldly, with a head held high and holding Modesty’s gaze. He was expecting an objection.

He wasn’t getting one. “There was always something off about him.” Modesty explained. “He always kept everything to himself, repressing feeling and emotions, it just…bubbled over.” Such a simplification for what had happened. It wasn’t simple, in no way, but it was also the best way to put it. She added, in a small voice. “He was protecting me.”

“You saying…”

“He wouldn’t have done if not…If Mother only threatened him he would have gone with her, obediently.”

Jimmy mulled over that before asking his next question. “You are not blaming yourself, are you?”

“No. I am not responsible for his issues.”

“You are very sensible for your age.” Jimmy commented. He was smiling – that was good. She wasn’t going to ruin it by telling about her attempts at self-therapy.  It was hard to get support in the house of Mary Lou Barebone and Modesty had her own little ways of keeping herself safe. She couldn’t imagine how Credence must have felt – at that church since early age with no way to cope, with no help.

Modesty didn’t like this Mister Graves, but if he had managed to give Credence peace, she would be grateful. She didn’t know where a path along with that man’s would lead her brother, but she hoped he could find some happiness along the way.

“I don’t want him to hurt.” Modesty admitted. Even after everything that happened. Days and months and now almost a year of contemplation had brought her to this point: Credence was not a bad man. But he was fiercely protective of the ones he loved. It’s just, he had not loved many people before. “But I don’t think I can see him either. I will never forget, but I do not want a reminder also.”

Jimmy nodded, accepting her answer. “Does that mean you do not want to see me too?” Humor laced his tone but the question was serious. He was after all, a glaring reminder of that night as well. But Jimmy to her was a protector, a man who took her hand and led her away from the blood and the night. His mother was sweet when he brought Modesty to their family home, instantly wrapping Modesty in an old but warm sweatshirt and offering her food. It was the middle of the night but the two of them took care of her. She stayed with Jimmy’s Mom until Mister Graves found her a new home.

“No.” Modesty shook her head. “You are alright.”

She looked out at the fields and the house, bathed in warm summer light, and thought, she had a nice future ahead. She had left all the demons behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here is the thing: I love all the parallels to canon in the AUs. So, concerning Home of Shadows, the fact that Modesty is, well, not-straight, makes perfect sense to me. In canon she and Credence are punished for the same thing, magic; but here one of the reasons for Mary Lou abusing Credence is him being gay. So it made sense that Modesty would too suffer for the similar reason. Thus, not-straight, Modesty. (I am using such an awkward term because I don't want to fully define her orientation).
> 
> And at last I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who is supporting these series! You are making my life brighter and happier! Not to mention your wonderful words push me to write more:D Thank you<3
> 
> (Also one last thing. I'm trying to keep to a nice little schedule here, writing during the week and editing and posting on the weekend, but my ideas for next parts are kind of messy and not fully formed so I'm not sure when the next update will come. Sorry! I'll try to post something next week, but we'll see how it goes.)


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